Comic Con was an experience. I remember why I haven't been in eleven years. The crowds are ridiculous. It doesn't help that I hate crowds.
It started ominously on Thursday with the Drive to Hell.
There was a HUGE accident on the I-5 near Camp Pendleton at 5am where the entire southbound freeway was shut down. They didn't reopen any lanes until 11am, and didn't get the rest of the lanes cleared until after 3pm. We didn't leave LA until 12:30pm, so we thought by the time we'd get to the affected area, everything would be back to running normally.
WRONG.
Traffic was backed up over 20 miles.
Ugh.
So we stopped at one point at a Dennys in the depths of Orange County after sitting in said hellish traffic for at least an hour and a half, and ate for about another hour, and that gave us enough of a break to get back into the slow-moving traffic mess that was the rest of the commute to San Diego.
Frustrating.
Then we get to the hotel, unpack our stuff, and take our bicycles to the convention center to hurriedly get our convention badges before registration shutters up for the rest of the day.
I now know that Comic Con is like Vegas to me: I need a reason to go.
I don't go to Vegas unless it's for Rollercon or a wedding. I won't go to Comic Con again unless I continue to be associated with a booth or manage to pimp something while there. To be in either place just existing would make me absolutely miserable.
So, being with the GirlsDrawinGirls booth made my Comic Con visit manageable and even fun. Especially since I brought Malibu rum in a Scooby Doo water bottle and the GDG founders had a drinking game to gulp down said rum all afternoon with the other GDG artists in attendance.
The game was called the Comic Con Mile and it resembled a scavenger hunt. The idea was when we got off our booth shift, we were to start at one end of the convention center and start meandering to the other end, taking a shot of rum from the water bottle every time we spotted something from the list.
The list included:
Fat Batman(any era)
Heath Ledger Joker(either gender)
Fat Princess Leia
V for Vendetta Mask
any Sailor Moon/Sailor Scout character
a couple dressed as Steampunks
Darth Vader or stormtroopers with their helmets off
anyone partaking in a hot dog and cup of coffee(the Official Convention Center meal)
walking through a fart cloud
a group of at least four attractive people who weren't working the con
a farting fat female stormtrooper eating a hot dog and carrying a cup of coffee
I know there's a couple I'm missing, but that's the jist of it. With this list, we would've had to be carried out on stretchers due to alcohol poisoning.
We made it through the first half of our four-hour booth shift on Friday before we couldn't take it anymore and decided to start the Comic Con Mile at the booth while people slowly shuffled by. We quickly found out that the V for Vendetta masks are entirely too popular. We also learned that it's a good thing we didn't have fairy wings on our list, as they were as plentiful as the damn V for Vendetta masks.
Needless to say, by the end of my shift on Friday, I was toasted.
That was the highlight of my day, as we had the worst service EVAR at a local restaurant that evening, and it threw me into such a foul mood, we had to ride our bikes back to our hotel room to decompress for the rest of the evening.
Then there was Saturday.
The day I was to be Booth Babe for the GDG.
For the occasion, I decided to take last year's Halloween costume. You know, the Austin Powers Fembot costume.
Holy hell, that turned out to be an interesting decision.
Now, I know that Comic Con is full of nerds, some of whom don't see attractive women in the flesh on a day-to-day basis. But I got swamped by nerds as soon as I stepped out in the fembot outfit. I imagine that there are literally hundreds of photos of me in my goofy outfit out there in nerdland.
The weird part?
I'm NOT an attractive woman!
But in the alternative universe that is Comic Con, just put on a wig, throw on some high heels, glue some sparkly false eyelashes on and POW! Instant Nerd Magnet!
I have to admit, it was a helluva ego boost. Until my feet started hurting in the damn shoes.
I spent four hours luring in the masses to the GDG booth. People bought stuff. I got my photo taken a bunch o' times and got minorly groped a couple of times in the process. Ummm, EWWW.
Some of the coworkers came by during my shift. Two were very nice, and the third laaaaaughed at me, not with me. Ah well. A couple of guys dressed as Scooby and Shaggy happened to wander by and we all got our photo taken with them. That should be a great source of extortion in the future.
I think I may have sold all ten of the Puss N' Boots magnets that I had. Yay!! Didn't really sell any of the ten roller derby magnets. Boo!! Sold a couple of roller derby buttons. Yay!! The company that helps GDG with their art needs, ACME Archives, made some giclee prints of Puss N' Boots. Yay!! Didn't sell any of them because they weren't on display. Boo!!
All in all, a hilarious experience.
I ended seeing almost nothing of the rest of the convention and so I didn't buy a damned thing other than food all weekend. Great for the pocketbook, since the money for the hotel room was extravagant.
Saturday evening was spent with Scooby friends at the nearby Hyatt, where we sat and drank and ate and talked a lot about stoopid stuff and generally had an easy-going time. After awhile we found out that the Hyatt is the default spot to go to when you have nowhere else to go. The downstairs bar areas filled up with nerds, and our friends started wandering off, so the Dear Husband and I went up to a nearby balcony and started throwing paper airplanes on the crowd below.
And didn't get caught.
Then some of the GDG girls came trickling in so I took out the trusty Sharpies that had been unused all weekend and drew on them. That got things a-buzzin', and next thing I know I'm drawing on some guy's bald head. Then I drew on another guy's neck, but he started getting really flirty and borderline stalker, topped off with him shoving $10 in my shirt. The DH didn't like that, and said he wanted to leave NOW. OK, not a problem!
Bicycled back to the hotel, went to sleep, got up early, and got the hell outta Dodge. Made it back home in just over 2 hours. WOOHOO!!
So to recap, I'd go to Comic Con again if circumstances booth-wise are similar to what I had this year. And I'll take into account traffic reports much more seriously.
Which is slightly difficult, because I'm veryveryvery sore from running not one, but THREE rounds of "Tarametrics" for the kiddies at the LA Derby Dolls' Jr. Derby Camp that's in session this week. All I want to do today is sleeeep.
I heard that the kids didn't think I was as tough on them as they'd hoped. Harrumph. I hope they're sore as hell today too!
BUT...
I have my Sharpies ready to go. Think I have enough?
I'm also bringing about 750 gumballs. That's right, gumballs. They have Scooby and Shaggy on them. No, I didn't buy them myself...the Dear Husband got them from one of his coworkers. Apparently said coworker has a gumball machine and ordered these gumballs for it. For whatever reason, they're not what he wanted, so he brought them to work to give away there. That's when the DH took over by saying how funny it would be for a bunch of women to hand out gumballs at their booth at Comic Con.
I also found my flask. That will be absolutely necessary.
Oh, I suppose I should say where I'm gonna be, since there might actually be a reader or two of this blog who might stop by and get drawn on(suckas!):
GirlsDrawinGirls booth #5528
Friday and Saturday, noon-4pm
On Friday I'll be doing "portfolio reviews"(lourd help the lost souls who dare approach me for that), and on Saturday I'll be a Booth Babe. Hint:I'll be the one looking like a tranny.
I actually can't wait to see the new book GDG is putting out: Once Upon A Girl. What I've seen already looks fantastic, so GO BUY THE BOOK!
As an added bonus, my Puss N' Boots pic is in it. So...GO BUY THE BOOK!
As I scramble around trying to get ready for Comic Con this week and Rollercon next week, I decided to scan and post something that no artist working in the animation industry gets enough of.
Positive reinforcement!
The below post-its are from the last batch o' freelance I did. Yeah, the batch that nearly killed me. It was almost worth it since they actually gave me positive notes:
Which I hope to remember that the next time I direct, I pass the idea along of leaving more positive feedback notes on story artists' boards.
I can't believe how horrible I am at self-organization and self-promotion. It's staggering.
This week a call went out to DIY derbydom to send bout posters, league stickers, etc. to Michigan where they're filming the latest Drew Barrymore film, Whip It! They'll be using said posters and stickers as background elements in the film.
Well, since I wasn't young or cool enough to be a skater for the film, I thought that I should get some posters and stickers in ASAP. But, I don't have extras of the posters I designed to just give away, so I emailed the contact for the film's "art department" asking if I could send a disc of the images and if they decide to use them I'll find a way to print them up.
But noooooooooooooo, they won't go for that.
DAMMIT.
I'm pissed. Mainly at myself for not grabbing more copies of my stuff when I had the chance.
So all I have to send at this point are the Battle on the Bank posters (luckily they're big: 18"x24") and some stickers.
That'll learn me.
Speaking of art crap, here's the final result of the single drawing I did for SureGrip last year. They approached me at Rollercon and afterwards had me do a single drawing. Due to getting paid for that drawing, I was able to write off the entire convention on the ol' taxes. Good times!
Nice looking ad, don't you think? Except for the fact that the skater girl doesn't have a nose!!!!!!!!!!!
Luckily the sticker turned out better:
And no, I didn't grab enough of the stickers to send along to the Whip It! people either.
At least it's partly cloudy, so that the sweat waterfall I have going down my back when I run errands on the bicycle is about .0657934% less than it would be if the sun were full-bore, but still.
It's gross.
So I'm staying inside as much as possible and trying to do an Illustrator version of this drawing:
Cute, don't you think?
I don't know what I'll do with her. Maybe more magnets if the first batch turns out OK(still waiting for them to show up), more buttons, or even shirts. We'll see. Would you buy a shirt with her on it?
Apparently everyone got some kind of sickness after Battle on the Bank. Most people got a cold, some started barfing, and I got bronchitis. Well, it's actually a reappearance of whatever I had exactly two months ago when I thought the Dear Husband was going to kill me from coughing so much.
Two months ago, I was given the very popular "Z-pac" antibiotic to combat said cough. The doctor that I saw this time hates the Z-pac, because it doesn't thoroughly kill whatever it's supposed to. He said it's a marketing fad from the insurance companies. I tend to believe him.
This time I got some comparitively old-fashioned amoxicillin. Made me feel bloated the first couple of days I took it, but now I'm OK and not looking or feeling like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. I'm on this stuff for ten days, so I'm on the wagon for that time. Which is probably for the best, considering the White Russian abuse I heaped upon my body on the Fourth of July.
You can tell I'm not working 'cos I'm posting here too much.
Below is a clip from Cats Don't Dance and it's one of my fave contemporary animated films. Very snappy animation, which I love. Didn't do well in the theaters, unfortunately. It also features my favorite villian in the whole world, Darla Dimple:
Her advice to be "Big and Loud" has obviously stuck with Hurricane Ken and myself!
I'm going to be attending for the first time in about, oh, eleven years.
CRIMINEY.
The San Diego convention center is going to be packed to the gills with comic book, animation, and movie nerds. The classic type o' nerd that probably lives with his parents well into his thirties and hasn't seen a grown woman nekkid unless it's at a strip club. The type of nerd that hasn't figured out the intricacies of personal hygiene and grooming in the form of bathing and putting on deodorant.
The last time I went, I barely lasted the day before I ran screaming from the convention center.
Now, I really shouldn't complain about nerds and conventions, especially considering that I met the Dear Husband at a sci-fi convention called Westercon 18 years ago. But that was different. He bathed and wore deodorant!
I have to say that there's also a bunch of people from the animation industry, and most of them have the whole hygiene and bathing routine down, as well.
So I shall be helping out at the GirlsDrawinGirls booth this year. Which should be entertaining, since I'm not much of a salesperson. As an added bonus, they want me to be a "booth babe". Which would consist of me wearing my derby uniform(and hopefully skates) trying to lure in the least smelly of the nerds to buy the latest GDG book. Ah, high comedy!
The other thing they want me to do is be present for "portfolio review". Which would consist of me looking at wannabe artists' portfolios and critiquing them.
Am I the only one who sees the flawed logic in this?
Alright, in reality, they want me to do it because they think it's funny.
And I guess it is.
So if you're going, be sure to stop by their booth and get ready to laugh. You'd better hope I don't have my skates on, though!
Oh, and it looks like I'm gonna have refrigerator magnets to sell. I'm trying out two 10-packs of two different designs: the Puss N' Boots girl and the Battle on the Bank skaters. I ordered them thru CafePress, which I was told is pretty good about sending stuff quickly. If they sell, then I'll see what I can do to expand.
I'll take over the world one way or another, dammit.
And I've had a decent day so far. It certainly is shaping up better than yesterday and Sunday, at any rate.
So now it's time to get sh!t done. For now that's going to mainly focus on the house, as it's filled with a ton o' ca-RAP, but I'm keeping my body fit so that when I get back to the skating, I will not have lost anything but my bad feelings.
Note: this is heavy-duty Derby Drama. It's not for the faint of heart, or for those who have only a casual interest in my little roller derby hobby. You may want to skip this one if you want your image of what I do on my off-days to be fun and happy.
Proceed with caution...
I was soooooooooooo high on Saturday.
Today I'm sooooooooooooooooooo low, it looks like up to me.
When we last left our intrepid blog, we had a triumphant First Day of the Battle on the Bank Tournament. I barely slept Saturday night, but was pumped and ready to go yesterday.
Got to the track early, warmed up for what seemed like hours, drank an obscene amount of energy drinks, and was generally ready to kick more Team Awesome butt.
The first game of the evening saw a buttload of ejections from both teams (TXRD vs. San Diego), so the LA Ri-ettes and Team Awesome captains met with the refs to tweak the rules so that if anyone gets ejected in the first half of the game, they can still come back for the second half. You think you know where this is going, don't you.
Game time.
Things start off great. LA pulls a decent lead on Team Awesome. I'm put into a couple of jams, but get sent to the penalty box both times in the first quarter. Damn! But overall the team's doing well. I do my thang in the second quarter, and penalties on other skaters rack up. One, Krissy Krash, is ejected before halftime.
A rare shot of me skating while jammer Mila Minute is knocked down by Team Awesome skater Demanda Riot(she's the uber-scary girl with the face paint and dreadlocks. She hit me into the rail a few jams later and I thought my right breast was going to be ripped free of my body):
Score at halftime: 37-24 in favor of LA.
After halftime, things got ugly.
Team Awesome kicked into high gear and came back on us BIG time and started kicking our butts. As the second half of the game wore on, I noticed that I was put up on the track less and less. Team Awesome got the lead and held on for awhile.
By the fourth quarter, I skated in one jam. I didn't accrue a single penalty in the second half of the game. Krissy Krash got ejected again. I still don't get put into game rotation.
At first, I assume that it's because of the whole penalty thing in the first quarter. But, by the second half, my penalties are gone. So...why wasn't I put into game rotation?
I don't know.
Now, I'm not implying that because I wasn't being played, that Team Awesome was able to catch up to LA score-wise. However, there's nothing that can convince me at this point that I didn't at least play as well as the rest of the skaters on my team. So "choking" isn't an issue in my mind. If a skater is on an "all-star" team, they should play. Plain and simple.
EDIT: well, apparently choking was an issue in the captain's mind. She claimed I didn't skate well in the game. I still dispute that, but I gotta wait for game footage to see if I really sucked more than the other players that got to stay in.
I also think I was handicapped for that going into this situation, and had I known what the captain thought of me before the tournament, I might've done things differently...namely stayed on the Golden Girls team.
ANYWAY...
Oh, look, here I am...sitting. I got really good at that:
I got frustrated about not being played and said so during a quick break, and the Ri-ettes captain said, But Tara,it's for the good of the team!
WHAT?!
The game wears on. By the last jam, LA was ahead by 4 points. But, in the last jam, the LA jammer commits a major penalty, which means that the points she earned is given to the other team and an overtime jam is run with no jammer from the offending team. The score is now tied as a result.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
That caused some drama on the team. The LA team captain calls for "four big blockers", since LA has no jammer. I stand up, and get ignored. I sit down.
And cry like a big baby.
The overtime jam is run, and ANOTHER major penalty is thrown, so a SECOND overtime jam is called for.
HOLY CRAP.
I tried to leave the track at this point, but one of the refs wouldn't let me. I go back to the bench and continue to be miserable.
This has never happened before, and it certainly wasn't anticipated. The crowd is going NUTS. The announcers are confused, and say so over the loudspeakers. They practically demand an explanation from the head ref of the game, but he has his own problems to deal with.
LA's captain has skated over to him and started screaming in his face. She throws a helmet. Another LA skater throws her helmet. Those are grounds for getting ejected in the ruleset. Water bottles from the audience start flying into the infield. The head ref takes the abuse and tells LA's cappie to set up the next jam. He doesn't kick her out for insubordination.
She has the nerve to let herself and the other helmet-throwing skater skate that jam. While I still sat. Both teams have jammers.
The jam is played, and LA won by a single point, 63-62.
Btw, if you want to read the Dear Husband's furious text messages of the game as it happened, check out Derby News Network.
The instant the last whistle is blown I gather my sad self and quickly exit the track and go to the dressing rooms. On my way I pass the head ref surrounded by a phalanx of refs, also on their way to the dressing rooms.
As I start tearing off my skates, I hear a whistle being repeatedly blown. I go back out, and see the aftermath of a "fan" who had ACCOSTED the head ref. The "fan" was luckily thrown out without further incident.
Jeezus.
I finish packing up my gear, and in my still-gross skate clothes, text the Dear Husband that I wanna leave ASAP. At the time he's caught up in the rules debacle and doesn't have a clue about my own personal Waterloo in regards to the game.
In a comedy of errors, I end up outside behind the dressing rooms, smoking like a fiend and waiting to get the hell out of there as skaters mill about, celebrating. Have a beer? Um, no thanks. Going to the afterparty? HELL NO.
I had several people come up to me to tell me how great I skated and how badass I was in the game.WTF?!?!?!? Didn't they watch the game? It was truly disturbing to me, since all I did was warm the damn bench.
Finally, DH and I got ourselves squared away with late dinner plans with one of the TXRD retired skaters, Cherry Chainsaw. On our way out I came across the LA Ri-ettes co-captain. She smiled brightly and says, "You're the only one I didn't hug tonight! It was great skating with you!" I stared at her in absolute astoundment and said, "I practically didn't skate in the fourth quarter. What the hell..?" She stared back and whispers that she's sorry. I believe her, but I wasn't going to discuss the matter with her right then, so I made my exit quickly.
Thank gawd we got away from everyone for awhile. Had a fun and funny dinner with Cherry, and dropped her back off at the track at around 2:30am.
Drove home.
Fumed.
Cried.
Tried to sleep, but couldn't.
To keep things on a lame note: I had to turn in my freelance today. My computer monitor decided to malfunction while I was trying to print out my invoice, and I lost a contact lens while riding home on the murdersickle from Woodland Hills. It ain't easy trying to ride a murdersickle on the freeway when one is half blind. When I got home I cried some more and drank a beer.
Go, me. MORE EDIT: apparently this entry is causing waves. I could take it down, but for now it stays up. My attitude is still going up and down, but I'll get over it. So will everyone else. I'm happy to hear that the visiting skaters overall had a blast, so that's good.
Today I'm exhausted and a little sore, but I gotta play again, as it's day two of the tournament. We go up against Team Awesome again, as Team Awesome also smacked down Texas in our bracket.
Beautiful.
Here's the amazing and thorough bout intro from yesterday:
There was a training emergency this week, where the trainer for the Fresh Meat skaters couldn't lead practice.
So I took a break from my Freelance Hell and lead said practice.
The league's latest awesome photographer, Rinkrat, was there testing some lighting techniques for this weekend. Here are some of the results...
Me and PITA demonstrating how to give a whip. It's hard to tell in this photo, but PITA's taking off after receiving a whip from me:
Me addressing the troops. It's common for skaters to associate me with the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket. It's the voice...I don't call people "Private Pyle", and no one has blown their brains out due to my abuse.
Yet.
A beautiful wide shot of our track. I'm skating on it, about to demonstrate something mindblowingly stupid, I'm sure.
The Battle on the Bank tournament is closing in this weekend. It turns out that I won't be skating much in it, based on last night's practice with the game lineups. Boo. I would've been better off staying with the Golden Girls(the "B" team...or the Bea team, as the case may be...uh, Bea). Ah well, I guess I should just be happy to be playing at all, but I'm pissy because I've been working my @$$ off on all fronts to be ready. Phooey.
So what I was going to put towards being disciplined and training hard is going towards me just concentrating on finishing my freelance before the weekend and then celebrating appropriately. Which doesn't involve much discipline. In fact, pizza and beer are visible on the horizon. Hell yeah!
I probably won't be able to update as the week goes on, so enjoy!
As I've been slaving away on Freelance Hell, I've been watching and rewatching a buttload of film noir. The box sets that I got at my last job are keeping me from going on a neighborhood killing spree at 3 in the morning.
Here's a couple of doodles from the last job, speaking of noir:
Apparently in my subconscious, film noir blondes like to drink. Maybe that's not just an opinion, but a simple fact, I dunno. Hell, I'm not a blonde but I'll drink, too.
The fun part about watching all the noir stuff is listening to the bonus audio commentary while the film is playing.
I found out that the average "historian" is dead boring.
Directors are generally more interesting, but having Peter Bogdanovich explain the same damn Otto Preminger story about how superior filming on location is compared to a soundstage because one has to work in the confines of the location space and get creative about solutions to filming, lighting problems etc. ad-freakin'-nauseum isn't compelling after the tenth time he's said it.
James Ellroy is amazing to listen to. He's kinda creepy and morbid, but there's no doubt that he loveslovesLOVES film noir Los Angeles and knows his locations inside and out. His enthusiasm for the old city is commendable, really.
So another week of this, then the Battle on the Bank tournament, and then REST. Blessed rest.
Until July 4 weekend, where we'll be having a riot and a beach skate stemming from our house.
I've rediscovered my propensity for staying up ridiculously late and drawing. Unfortunately, it's not for fun, but for work.
My routine the past couple of weeks has been to wake up around 8am, stumble to the kitchen, feed the cats, slurp down a Red Bull, do some push-ups and abdominals, run an errand or two, get to work, goof off while "working" all afternoon, do some evening exercise such as jogging or roller derby, get back into the art room around 10pm, and then really get to work until around 3 or 4am.
Rinse, repeat.
What a stoopid schedule.
And of course this will last through the end of the month, when the Battle on the Bank tournament will take place.
Why the HELL does everything have to happen all at once?!
To add to the fun, the Dear Husband has been cutting back on the nicotine gum. So he's cranky.
This house ain't big enough for the both of us to be cranky.
It's an ugly situation.
Alright, enough of my kvetching.
UPDATE:
I found out that due to a lineup change, I'll be playing again with the LA Ri-ettes (the best of the best of the LA Derby Dolls) in Battle on the Bank. That means that I'll be skating BOTH days of the tournament. Woohoo!
Moar doodles:
Obviously done while watching/listening to moar old movies. This first one was done while I was watching Detour. This hottie looks a lot like the female lead in the flick:
I forget what I was watching while drawing this one:
I had these and a couple other similar doodles taped to my desk at work. People would come into my office, stare at the doodles and say, "Wow, I didn't know you could do that!"
I have an evening off while I regroup, gather notes, and generally have a nervous breakdown.
I'm working too hard considering the amount of time and money I'm getting for this particular freelance project.
That's true for just about everyone I know btw, it's not just me being a conceited jerk.
Though I can be that sometimes, too.
Here's some stoopid roughs I had lying around. The first is a rough of the Dear Husband's Valentine's Day card:
The final version was done in marker and it turned out fairly cute. I'm not that great with marker, but I try.
Well, unless it's on someone's flesh.
The second is a rough of Maude Lebowski from The Big Lebowski for the husband of one of my Fight Crew teamates:
He had a fabulous birthday party at a bowling alley in Koreatown. Complete with cheap (but small) drinks and cupcakes that had Lebowski quotes printed on tiny slips of paper that were stabbed into the cupcakes with toothpicks. That was fun.
This guy (whom we'll call "Hot Carl" because that's his skate name) is as big a fanatic of The Big Lebowski as CH and I are. Hot Carl will send out text messages of Lebowski quotes on a fairly regular basis. I'll quote back at him. This has been going on for months and we still haven't quoted the entire movie yet.
Which probably means we haven't watched it enough times to memorize every. single. damn. line.
Ooooh, a goal!
And now for something completely different, Beavis put on a little show for the Dear Husband's family tonight. Lourdy!
For those of you who read the LA Times, you've probably already seen THIS ARTICLE in today's "California" section. Nice mouf, don't you think?
The funny thing is, yesterday a bunch of us skaters went to an "audition" looking for stunt doubles and background skaters for the upcoming "Whip It" movie. What a total waste of time it was.
Basically, the production people already had their "short list" of skaters that they wanted. No fatties or old broads need apply. All the cute, tiny girls(with the exceptions of Juana Beat'n and Krissy Krash, who are both large and formidible in good ways)were chosen. Not that I begrudge most of them for getting in, but they're all of a similiar body type.
I can kinda understand on them wanting younger skaters, since the book the film is based on features high schoolers and just-post-high schoolers. But for stunts and stuff where one doesn't really see faces, even an old bitty such as myself or Broadzilla can still pack a helluva punch.
It's the lack of body variety that gets to me, especially since the amazingly wide array of women in derby is what makes derby so damn interesting. There's little stick-figure girls like Mila Minute and Kung Pow Tina, then there's big monsters like PITA and Trixie Biscuit. There's short and sweet like Suzy Snakeyes, there's the hot librarian in the form of Judy Gloom, the sultry Fighty, the philosophical Axles of Evil, and of course YOURfavorite, the loud-mouthed Tara Armov.
That doesn't even begin to cover the different types of women that are involved in DIY derby.
The Dear Husband made an interesting observation: derby as it is right now wouldn't have happened if 30-something women weren't involved. By the time people hit their 30's, they're not supposed to have dreams anymore; they're supposed to be practical, responsible adults.
But then there's the women who resurrected derby. A lot of them were in their 20's, but just enough of them were in their 30's and brought their experience and wherewithal to actually stop talking and start making things happen in a way that young'uns are less likely to do(make note: I'm generalizing).
A woman in her 30's is generally at a point where she doesn't give a damn what others think as much as she probably used to. She doesn't mind that she doesn't fit into a nice, tidy little stereotype that's been supplied to her; she's just going to BE who she's gonna BE and THAT'S IT. And that's what makes DIY derby so damn interesting: it's FULL of women like that, whether they're in their 30's, 20's, or even their 40's or 50's.
We knew that the homogenizing of the sport would happen; it's already beginning to change. It's going from punk rock underground to a more athletic real sport. But "Whip It" will accelerate the homogenization. By the time the full effects of that hit me, I'll be retired. But it makes me VERY glad and extra appreciative that I found this amazing outlet when I did. While it's still fun and open to anyone who's willing to strap on a pair of skates and hope for the best.
Once upon a time I worked on a tv series featuring a stoner and a talking Great Dane. "What's New?" was part of the title, but the irony of it was that not much of anything was new on the show.
However, the first couple of seasons were very fun to work on, because the crew was silly. Silliness is a beautiful thing that is sorely lacking in the animation biz these days, mainly due to the INSANE schedules that we're under(see previous blog entry where I was whining about deadlines and my own insecurities).
Below is a prime example of crew silliness. This was taped on a now-no-longer-existing Wild West backlot somewhere in Borebank. The Wild West lot has been replaced with a seethingly boring New England set.
What.
Everrrr.
ANYWAY, have fun watching the clip. I'm not in it, but I was there, and you can hear my cackling in the background:
Been a busy week trying to keep up on the ol' freelance.
The schedules are RIDICULOUS.
I don't know how anyone can keep up with them, but I think that most people aren't...they get a goodly chunk o' stuff done by the deadline, they turn it in, then continue to work on the stuff that still needs to be done while the overworked directors, producers, etc. try to find a moment or two to squeeze in some notes on the boards that have already been turned in.
So here I am trying to finish my first pass on this board by the deadline.
Which ain't gonna be met.
But I'll have a goodly chunk of it done to take over the hill to drop off to the very frenzied director and producer at the end of this coming week.
I feel like I've failed, even though a lot of professionals do this, do just fine reputation-wise, and end up doing as good a job on whatever particular project they're workin on as can be expected under the circumstances.
On top of that, last night we went to the Hive gallery in lovely downtown LA (read: bums were outside of the gallery mixing with the crowd begging for change or alcohol) to check out their monthly group show, which featured the GirlsDrawinGirls group as well as a buttload of other artists.
As usual, the intimidation factor of seeing a buttload of art got to me.
I wish I could be just a little bit confident about my artistic abilities. Why can't Sandra be as confident about her abilities as Tara Armov is about hers? Is it the nature of being shut away from the rest of the world while I create this stuff, and therefore the solitary mindf*** gets to me? Or is it because being a good roller derby player is way more cut-and-dried than what makes good art, which has got to be up there as one of the most subjective outlets in life to be had?
I don't know how other artists deal with this very general, very common insecurity.
What's weird is that last year on My First Directing Gig, I figured out where I fit into the world of that particular production...
I do "stupid" really well. I didn't get hired to draw nice, to be able to do heavy-duty action sequences, or to compose Citizen Kane-esque beauty shots. I just do stupid.
But in the bigger world of art, I don't know where I fit. I like doing stupid doodles or pinups, and both are filled with some ridiculously talented artists who make me look like a retarded third grader on crack. I like my small pond where I know where I fit. The ocean's still overwhelming to me, as I don't know who my audience is, or even if I really have one.
The Dear Husband was looking around, admiring the art, and would whisper to me "advise" on what he thinks I should do to sell more artwork in galleries. On one level, he's right, but that insecure level says, "Why bother? There's ten BAJILLION better artists out there that do better work!"
See? Total mindf***.
This why too many artists in the past weren't bigger when they were alive, methinks. Artist insecurity.
Welp, back to work for me...at least I'm enjoying the current project I'm on. It's funny. And I'm watching a bunch of film noir on the ol' computer sitting on the divorce desk. I get a lovely view of neighbor Beavis' domestic intranquility on top of all this, too.
The ramblings, doodles, and misadventures of an animatin', roller derby-playin', drunk-doodlin', murdersickle-ridin' goofball woman in Lost Strangeles. You can try to shut me up, but it probably won't work.
